Secret of NIMH: The Key
by Seagem
Summary: I wanted to write a fanfic about NIMH and I finally started it. I own nothing but Maxwell and his home.


Secret of NIMH

The key

CHAPTER ONE: Moving Day

In the first moments of life everything was cold and painful. The shock of exiting the comfort of a warm cocoon for the harsh world outside can be devastating. If one was lucky enough someone with a kind heart will take the lost soul in and bring that person comfort. For a little newborn mouse that benevolent being appeared before him and gave him a new life and a new name. Adopted by Suzanna Valentine, Maxwell was brought to NIMH, the National Institute of Mental Health. For three years he lived with Suzanna ignorant to what happened in the labs below. He lived well and safe from the horrors outside his home, until his very world tipped out of balance.

Maxwell's precious Suzanna became tremendously ill and there was nothing the doctors could do to save her. After a long six month battle Suzanna Valentine passed away in the dead of a cold winter night. NIMH became very quiet after her death. Dr. Valentine the head scientist of the institution and Suzanna's uncle slowly began to lose his mind within the crooked shadows of NIMH. As his insanity grew Dr. Valentine focused upon poor Maxwell; to the mad scientist Maxwell was the last link Valentine had to his beloved niece. So the doctor promised himself that he would do anything to keep that link alive, absolutely anything.

Suzanna Valentine's funeral was small with only a man dressed in a stained lab coat and a tiny mouse dressed in a small suit. There was neither rain nor flowers for the young lady buried. The only sound piercing the cold February air was the choked sniffles coming from the mouse. Turning gently with a sullen bow of the shoulders the man picked up the mouse that had begun to wail in sorrow. Silently the man walked into the large facility beside the still grave. The young mouse consumed by his sadness burrowed in the man's lab coat, seeking shelter from the pain his heart and the chill of the winter air. As the pair enters the large metal doors that adorn the buildings front the skies unleash an unholy downpour not for the one buried but for the life endangered of ending, a great flash of lightning strikes across the darkened sky allowing passer-byers to read the sign in front of the large building. It read: National Institute of Mental Health, NIMH.

The crisp night air melts as the sun rises casting its warm glow upon a small farm hidden in the country side. The shadows began lift from the small house basking it in the sun's rays. On the second floor a window shifts, slowly it lifts up. A tiny spring was wedged under the pan of glass. A small body shimmies through the gap, with a flick of a black tail the little figure jumps. Softly the creature drifts down suspended only by a flimsy thread. As its feet land evenly on the ground two floors below, it jerks its arms and the spring and thread fall from the window. After spending a few moments to tie the items to his back, he bolts. Heading for the overgrown field beside the house, he pauses every few moments to look for danger. With some effort he jumps on top of a large stone in the center of the field. As the stands looking around the field a breeze blows ruffling his fur. Using the breeze he sniffs the air twitching his nose slightly while shifting his ears like a satellite. After moments pass the young creature relaxes and continues on his way home.

Finally after running through the field he reaches the edge that line with a forest. He pauses once again to look behind him. Seeing that the coast was clear he moved forward further into the forest. He follows the path he knows by heart to reach his burrow, his home. Reaching a maple hided by the other trees, he climbs up, only pausing to adjust his pack. At the mid-way he stops and opens a small door camouflaged by the tree inside. Walking inside he flings his pack not caring where it lands, as he trudges into a room further in the hollowed maple. Throwing open another door carved from the tree he collapses onto his soft bed made of different fabrics and strings of multiple colors. Exhausted from his night at the farm he easily falls asleep, dead to the waking world outside his burrow.

After want seemed like a few minutes his ears began to twitch. He tries to ignore it, burrowing deeper into his bed. With a great bang he flies off of his bed onto the cold floor. A groan escapes his mouth. Rubbing his head the young mouse stretches popping his back. Slowly he moves out of his bedroom into the main room. Standing in-front of the now open door stood a shrew. Dressed in a pink cloth, blue scarf was Auntie Shrew, the caretaker of all the creatures living in the field that lies along the farm. With a deep groan he moves to close the door knowing that even if he asked her to leave she wouldn't.

Auntie Shrew moved inside the main room toward a raised platform. Hopping up she grabbed a small pot from the dying embers. Glancing back the shrew said, "Where have you been all night Maxwell?" With a flinch the young mouse paused on his way to an adjacent room. Maxwell turned his head slightly to glance at the old shrew. Their eyes lock for a couple of seconds. Finally after sometime Maxwell turned away, his tail began to lash about in nervous tension. "I was busy collecting things for my work," he said defensively. With precise steps he continued into the adjacent room which was filled with various cloths. Moving to a pile next to the wall Maxwell pulled a royal purple vest from it. Putting on the vest he moves to stand in-front of a shard of glass. Looking into the shard that takes up a third of the wall Maxwell sighs and he grooms his head fur. Knowing that he will have to answer Auntie Shrew Maxwell apprehensively moves back to the main room. Stepping into the bright room Maxwell paused to adjust his eyes. When he adjusted his sight Maxwell hesitantly moved over to help Auntie Shrew make breakfast.

Together they chopped small roots and grasses making a salad. Maxwell picks up the bowl and scoops out the salad into two dishes. Both of them sat down and began to eat. They made small talk throughout the meal. After breakfast was finished Auntie Shrew grabbed the dishes placing on the kitchen counter. Maxwell heads outside onto the branch. He stretches in the cool spring air. "Moving day is approaching correct?" Maxwell asked the shrew. With a thump the front door was closed. Auntie Shrew moved to stand beside the mouse. "You are correct in your assumption." Auntie Shrew replied as she wrapped her scarf tighter around herself. They left the maple tree and head into the overgrown field. As they leisurely walked through the grasses a conversation was struck up.

"Moving day may come early this year Auntie Shrew. The frost has melted early and the farmer is preparing his tractor." Maxwell told her while hopping on over some twigs and rocks. Auntie Shrew sighed dramatically, "I know Maxwell, but I fear that very few are ready to move yet," she through her paws in the air, "Why am I the one everyone turns to for help!" Maxwell laughed at the shrew's melodramatic ways. Running ahead he jumped on to a large stone that peaks over the grass. A gasp escapes his mouth. "Auntie, get up here." Maxwell spoke in a whisper.

The energetic air around them disappeared as the shrew joined the mouse. Auntie Shrew's eyes grow wide and she slowly shakes her head side to side. With a stutter she said, "That's not possible. It's too early…it's too soon." The shrew puts one of her back paws behind her, hesitantly she moves backwards. "I must…I must warn everyone. Moving day is here." She shouts as the old shrew runs to warn the animals living in the field. Slowly mass panic consumes the creatures. Everyone bolts as repulsive black smoke emits from the far end of the field. The farmer's tractor hooked to a giant bladed plow was at the entrance. The horrifying sight freezes Maxwell onto the stone. His eyes are unable to leave the sight of the machine that brings nothing but death. A pang emits from the tractor forcing Maxwell into action. He jumps off the stone onto the ground and runs, but not away. Maxwell runs past Auntie Shrew drawing a startled yelled from her lips. "Ma-Maxwell what are you doing? That's the wrong way! You're heading for your death!" She yells at his back but her words fall on deaf ears. Maxwell's heart raced as he neared the tractor. It had to be stopped; no one was ready to move.

Maxwell paused as he reached the path of destruction the tractor left behind. With a gulp of air he ran after the machine following its tracks. Reaching the back of the tractor Maxwell jumped grapping at the metal edge. One of his paws slips, glancing below he sees glimpses of the sharp blades shredding the ground. His claws sink into the metal as he drags himself back on-top. Maxwell grabs at his chest to ease his heart. Shaking his head Maxwell continues on; climbing the metal limbs connecting the blades to the tractor. Finally he reaches the inner points of the tractor. Pausing to see what he could do, Maxwell sees a glass container filled with a strange liquid with tubes sticking out of it. His eyes narrow with determination as he jumps on to the container. Maxwell struggles as he tries to remove the tubes. He realizes that nothing was working. The tractor was getting closer to the main part of the field. With a split-second decision Maxwell jumps with the tube pulling it free, but it flings him backwards to the blades.

Sounds of pattering feet permit the air. Auntie Shrew runs around and through the tractor looking for any sign of Maxwell. As she nears the blades the old shrew starts to feel her age. Hope begins leave her as she starts to fear the worst. Looking up tears fall from her eyes; there is blood on one of the blades. Auntie Shrew bows her head in despair, mourning the young life lost. Caught up in her weeping the shrew doesn't notice that some of the soil beside the bloody blade was shifting. A small white paw pushed through the dirt followed by a black and white head. Maxwell gasped for air finally drawing Auntie Shrew's attention.

The shrew jumps in glee and rushes to pull the mouse into a hug. That happiness is short lived as she notices that Maxwell's shoulder was bloody and torn. With growing horror the shrew picks up the limp mouse and rushes off with him in her arms. The scenery becomes a blur of muted colors as Auntie Shrew runs faster as if Dragon, the farmer's cat, was chasing her. Tears stream down her fur, her grip tightens around Maxwell. Looking down at the black and white mouse a sob escaped her lips. "Hold on Maxwell, please hold on. I can't lose another one, not another one." She whimpered in agony. Shaking her gaze from the mouse the old shrew smiled with weak joy as her pace quickens. Up ahead an old rusted tractor laid in an overgrown patch of weeds. This ageing machine is the home of a wise, cranky mouse, Mr. Ages.

Auntie Shrew paused at the opening within the tractor. Glancing down at Maxwell the shrew became alarmed at Maxwell's pale coloring. Her panic grew as his blood dripped onto the rusted metal. With a screech she jumped down into the machine. "Ages! Ages!" Auntie Shrew yelled into the hollowed machine. An explosion was the only response to her calls. Throwing all caution to the wind, she hurriedly moved further to find Mr. Ages. The sound of coughing alerted the shrew to another's presence. Out of the smoke emitting from inside the machine a small figure came forth. A little old tan mouse came out of the smoke. Picking his glasses from his nose Mr. Ages wiped them clean on his apron. Auntie Shrew releases a choked sob catching Mr. Ages' attention. As the tan mouse settles his glasses right on his face they become askew again as he jumps with shock at seeing the bleeding mouse in the shrew's arms. With a jerked motion Mr. Ages motions for the shrew to follow him. With a hurried pace they run through the old machine till they reach an area filled with glass filled with colorful liquid.

Mr. Ages swipes his arm over a table shoving everything onto the floor. He goes to a small cupboard and pulls out a white cloth. The old mouse places the cloth over the table then helps Auntie Shrew lower Maxwell onto the table. Grabbing tools from all over the room the old mouse got to work trying to save the young life before him.

After some hours Mr. Ages wipes the sweat from his brow as he moves to place the bloody tools into a nearby sink. Shaking his head Mr. Ages began to clean himself of the excess blood. Glancing over his shoulder Mr. Ages allows a sigh to escape his lips. On the table Maxwell lied wrapped in redden cloth but alive. Auntie Shrew sat beside him running her claws through his head fur. Mr. Ages moved to stand next to her. He spoke gently, "How did this happen Shrew?" Auntie Shrew paused then as if a dam broke she began to cry. With tears dripping down her fur the shrew said, "Moving day came early. Not everyone was ready to leave yet. Maxwell knew this." With another sob more tears began to fall from her eyes. She turned to look at Mr. Ages, "he went to stop the tractor," the shrew was interrupted by Mr. Ages who jumped with a gasp. The old mouse turned his head to Maxwell, he said, "the fool. Was he trying to die?" Raising his paw Mr. Ages rubbed his eyes. Slowly he moves away from the table shaking his head.

Auntie Shrew jumps to Maxwell's defense. She moves after the mouse and stated, "Maxwell is not a fool! He may do things that seem idiotic but he is truly smart and does what he thinks is best." With a deep breathe the shrew moved to stand in front of Mr. Ages and continued her rant. "He teaches and helps anyone no matter the species. He taught me how to write and read!" as the shrew was saying this Mr. Ages eyes grew wide at hearing her words. Ignoring the old mouse the shrew went on, "he also makes those pretty lights without fire. So he is clearly not a fool." Auntie Shrew finished with a huff. Mr. Ages sputtered at the shrew. He spoke harshly, "How does he know how to read and write? How does he make light without fire? How woman? How?" Mr. Ages shouted the last few words. Auntie Shrew moved a few steps back away from the old mouse. With a sneer on her face the shrew straighten her back to begin berating Mr. Ages, but a groan from Maxwell stopped her. Running over to the wounded mouse Auntie Shrew gripped his paw, murmuring soft words into his ear to calm Maxwell's fusing.

Auntie Shrew turned to glare at Mr. Ages. Slowly she prowled to stand before him. Bending down to look him in the eyes she hissed, "You will do nothing to upset him. Maxwell is my precious nephew." The shrew jabs her claw into Mr. Ages' chest pushing him backward. She swiftly grabs Mr. Ages' shoulders lifting off the floor and slamming him into the wall. With a snarl she spat out, "If you ever hurt him I will dangle you by a string in front of the farmer's house and feed you to Dragon." Letting go of his shoulders Mr. Ages dropped to the floor shaking. With a disgusted huff Auntie Shrew moved back towards Maxwell. She gently brushed his head fur trying to smooth it. Leaning down the shrew placed a kiss on Maxwell's brow. Glancing towards Mr. Ages who finished getting off the floor Auntie Shrew sighed. She motion towards the old mouse. Auntie Shrew said, "Take care of him please. He likes to think that he alone should carry the world's problems." When Mr. Ages nodded towards the shrew she walked out of the room only pausing to take one more glance at Maxwell. Shaking her head she left heading home.

Mr. Ages let go of the breath he was holding. His fur bristled at the thought of that horrid shrew. Walking over to Maxwell the old mouse started to feel his age. Shaking his head Mr. Ages rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling much more tired than before. Yet his mind would not let go of the knowledge he was given about Maxwell. Groaning Mr. Ages tucks a blanket around Maxwell to keep him warm. With a pop from his back he stretches. Grabbing his coat that laid on a nearby table Mr. Ages looks at Maxwell to make sure he wasn't awake. Nodding with assurance Mr. Ages blows out the candle that was lighting the room. Heading outside Mr. Ages was shocked at the time, twilight. He spent the whole day saving Maxwell. Shivering from the sweeping cold Mr. Ages hurried on towards his destination, the rosebush in front of the farmer's house. The rats needed to know about Maxwell. They needed to know that Maxwell could be from NIMH.

CHAPTER TWO

The waning moon provided a sliver of light just enough to give shadows to the farm. Colorful lights break through the bleakness of the night. The lights were emitted from a thorny rosebush that lay a few meters from the farmer's house. Inside the bush jagged sparks attack any who come near the guarded door. Through a series of twist and turns a marvelous city burrow came into view. Every building glisten with light formed from stolen electricity. Following a path of lights an ornate door appeared. Voices came from within, small voices that spoke with power and intelligence. Inside a room shined in hues of gold, red and blue. A conference hall used to discuss plans and actions that need to be carried out. The ones that use this room are feared by the other animals, rats. These rats are not like others. They dress in fancy cloths, speak intelligently and think like a human being. Since they are like humans they also argue like humans.

In the center of the room a big, black rat was twisting around speaking to the council sitting above in elevated seats. He spoke, "My dear council there is no need to move. We are safe here in the rosebush and all of our food stores are here." The council broke out into murmurs. Many could see the black rat's point. Silence filled the atrium as a figure moves from an alcove. A gray mouse moved forward shaking his head at the rat. Speaking loudly he addressed all the rats, "You are a fool Jenner. We cannot continue as we are. The rats of NIMH will be caught if we stay here." Gasps filled the air as the fear of being caught and taken. Jenner scowled at the mouse but then smiled sinisterly. Moving over to the mouse Jenner grabbed the mouse's shoulder roughly. Jenner spoke gruffly to the council and to the mouse, "Now, now Jonathan Brisby, you have done great favors for the rats. But there is no need to move." Jonathan shook Jenner's paw off his shoulder.

Turning to the foul rat Jonathan began to speak harshly but was cut off by the presence of an old rat. Whispers from the council spoke his name, Nicodemus, the leader of the rats. Nicodemus slowly walked towards an ornate chair placed near the back of the room. Everyone's eyes followed his movements. The silence cloaked the whole room in anxiety. A brown rat began to speak but paused as Nicodemus raised his paw. For a few moments no one spoke, and then suddenly the ornate doors burst open startling everyone but Nicodemus. The leader of the rats smiled and said, "Welcome back Mr. Ages." Panting in the doorway Mr. Ages stood bent over trying to his breath.

Looking up the old mouse tried to speak but nothing came about but more gasp for air. The brown rat standing guard moved to help Mr. Ages. Finally Mr. Ages whispered, "I'm fine Justin but I have news." Everyone stood with anticipation but Jenner. A snarl broke from Jenner's lips. Smiling sharply he addressed the hall, "Mr. Ages we are in an important meeting. Your news can wait for later." Mr. Ages straighten his back and glared at Jenner. Johnathan moved to stand by his old friend. Quietly Justin and Jonathan questioned Mr. Ages, but he would not speak.

Jenner continued to talk to the council trying to sway them to his views. No one paid him any attention all eyes were once again on Nicodemus. The old rat leaned forward on his staff. Soon even Jenner became quiet. Nicodemus nodded at Mr. Ages giving him the okay to speak. With a huff Mr. Ages moved towards the center, Jonathan and Justin guarding his sides. With a glare from all three Jenner backed down and went to a small alcove. With a few breathes Mr. Ages spoke to the hall, "This morning the plow came early," gasp broke through the silence at this news but were quickly silenced by Nicodemus. Mr. Ages continued speaking, "A young mouse was brought to me almost dead. He stopped the tractor and plow." This time no one spoke as they were too shocked by this news. Taking a breath Mr. Ages told the council, "The mouse was named Maxwell…" a small chatter interrupted Mr. Ages. Four little mice tumbled out of a hidden alcove. The oldest girl dusted herself off as well as her siblings. Johnathan Brisby groaned, "Teresa what are you and your siblings doing here?" Teresa looked at him and smiled, "We came to spy father. But then we heard Mr. Ages speak about Maxwell." Mr. Ages looked at her shocked. He walked up to here and asked how she knew Maxwell.

Teresa and her siblings informed everyone about the mouse in the maple; the mouse that was brave and courageous, facing any type of danger and even fought Dragon, the farmer's cat. The more she spoke the more the council thought she was talking about a fairy tale. Teresa took a breath to finish her story of Maxwell. Addressing Mr. Ages she said, "Also his name isn't just Maxwell, its Mr. Maxwell Valentine." Gasps of horror filtered the air as everyone had flashbacks to a bad part of their lives. Teresa ignorant of the growing horror continued, "He is intelligent, since he can read and write," with each new point she made the rats all started to fret about. Only Nicodemus was calm. Teresa paused and then looked to her father with a smile, "He also makes really pretty lights without fire." Silence filled the room. No one could believe what the young Ms. Brisby told them.


End file.
